June 27, 2015.

Four years and one week ago, my brother-in-law and I were standing around talking about my going to Israel for six weeks-- that he and my sister would come over to have breakfast the day I left, cutting short his planned camping trip the night before. A week later, I experienced grief for the first time. Before Jake's death, I hadn’t been close to anyone who'd passed away, only knowing that heartache vicariously through others. But he was my brother. I miss his friendship every day.

The months preceding his death, God was teaching me the phrase, “Lord willing.” Like, “Lord willing, we'll have lunch Thursday,” or “If the Lord wills it, I’ll text you when I get home.” And as I grew into the habit of prefacing my future plans with His sovereignty, He taught me that sometimes He isn’t willing. Sometimes, our plans differ from His and we’re faced with this seemingly unbeatable thing and we have no idea what to do, but we have to keep our eyes on Him (2 Chronicles 20:12).

Two weeks before he died, my sister and I were discussing a song on the radio about God’s mercy in teaching and blessing us through painful circumstances. We both admitted to feeling like we’d never really suffered, like our faith hadn’t been truly tested, shaken (Hebrews 12:28). That night I prayed that He would bring tests along that would cause my truest nature to be made known. Apparently of that the Lord was willing.

I hope to show you the preparation that God has given me for "various trials" (1 Peter 1:6) so often in the past, a cycle He repeated in this circumstance. Not until recently did I see this cycle so clearly: I pray for something, He prepares me for His answer, He provides-- both the trial and the ability to endure. 

This time as preparation, we were given two things. The first was extra time with my brother-in-law. I am inexpressibly thankful for this. He was in medical school and therefore very busy. I typically only saw him once a week for a half hour before church in which we’d discuss a thousand things in rapid succession. But, the month leading up to his death was his school break. My sister got to travel a bit with him. The Lord worked it out for he and I to ride to a church 45 minutes away together, despite all my other attempted plans. I’ll forever cherish those times and those final conversations we got to have. Truly the Lord gives good gifts to His children (Matthew 7:11).

Second, He prepared us with the study of 1 Peter 1. The Bible study he and I were going to that was 45 minutes away was one we, my sister included, attended regularly. That month, the teaching was about 1 Peter, the “if necessary,” of being “grieved by various trials.” A few weeks after his death, my parents both sent me that same chapter, having separately been led to it when searching for comfort, not knowing the Lord had been using it already to comfort me and my sister. He united us in awe of Him, in trust and hope. He intertwined His answers, knitting our hearts together (Colossians 2:2) that we might lean on one another, "bearing each other's burdens" (Galatians 6:2). 

These were both combined with the myriad of past lessons in patience and trust, hope in disappointment, and the effects of speech on attitude and outlook. Most importantly, the lessons about His past actions and the proof of His nature by years of daily, personal study of His Word.

However, I feel this grief manifesting itself even today in many of my decisions. Subconsciously, I’m expecting all my plans to fall through and everything to change, until the very moment that it comes to fruition. Or I’ll turn my back on potential relationships because of a fear of giving myself to someone and losing them. Or I’m unable to plan anything that takes place in more than a few months, because I am hesitant to think I have that long. Or...etc.

Still, I often find that I am jealous for those times closely succeeding his death. Despite the ache and the sorrow, He kept me constant, He held me steady, and He graciously reminded me of Himself, of His power and His love and His kindness and His wisdom. Who He is shone so brightly to me in that time. I felt everything deeply, yet carried it lightly, constantly offering it again to God.

My faith was shaken but the Rock was steady. He anchored me with hope and joy.

I know that life can be overwhelming and that we face different things and feel different things in response to them. I do not pretend to be an expert by any means. But I know what the Lord has done for me (Psalm 66:8-16) and how He has taught me to react; I hope that you might be strengthened and encouraged to press on.

I had to remind myself over and over again-- through doubt or tears or numbness or anger or self-pity-- that my lot is secure; my portion steadfast (Psalm 16:5, etc.). My inheritance is “undefiled and unfading, kept in heaven for” me, as I, “by God’s power,” am “being guarded through faith” (1 Peter 1). My reward is immovable, for He has won it; indeed He has become it. He is the victory I need.

[Side note: Christianity isn't an undercover ploy of greed and pride that allows people to "believe" only enough to get them to Heaven when they die. Many church-goers function this way. Christianity is the teaching that, through His own suffering, Jesus has joined us in our suffering, giving it a hope and a purpose-- a God Who can both sympathize with human weakness and walk in divine power over sin and death. Eternal life is the continuation and deepening of fellowship with God, not some promise for gratification of the fleshly desires for admiration and selfish gain we pretended not to have while we served "others" on earth. He renews us in life by the power of the Spirit; He remakes us completely in death by the unveiled sight of His Son (2 Corinthians 3:18, 1 John 3:2).] 

There is always something about which to be grateful. He is always working. Over all things He is sovereign. "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose" (Romans 8:28). This isn't just a saying for a greeting card, this is a real, tested truth. Stop fearing your pain or your uncertainty; fear God. No suffering will meet you that has not been approved and reworked by a God of infinite understanding and kindness to make you better, to make you more like Jesus, "a man of sorrows, familiar with suffering" (Isaiah 53).

Remind yourself of this truth, even if it’s a moment by moment forgetting and recitation. Train yourself to perceive all things through the filter of the Word of God, the Truth of Jesus, and the Conviction of the Holy Spirit. You have to be willing and disciplined in each memory or new situation to speak it again.

To not get discouraged when you feel you’ve landed in the same place as you were before.

To not be a "hindrance" to yourself by "not setting your mind on the things of God, but on the things of man" (Matthew 16:23).

To not doubt that God has your best interest in mind.

To not allow yourself to feel entitled to bitterness or despair.

There is always hope, there is always forgiveness, you just have to look up (John 3:14). 

So if you find yourself at this moment in the grasp of great pain, do not be dismayed; it is likely the Lord has been working often to prepare you. Look back, take inventory of the training in various aspects of Godliness He has provided you with, and plunge ahead with renewed courage and thanksgiving. He has not left you alone, He will not leave you vulnerable. Fix your eyes, for He is leading you in this battle as the Head of the charge. The Death Conqueror is your King, your Defender, your Guide. What have you to fear but forgetting to look to that King and trust His orders? 

Find reinforced cover by seeking out Christian brothers and sisters to fight alongside you, listening to the comfort of those before you, looking for those in need of comfort behind you (2 Corinthians 1:3-7). Kneel behind that common shield of faith and skillfully wield it as protection from the efforts of the enemy. Trust the sword of the Word of Truth to find its targets. Cling to both with the strength found in the arms of the Creator God; "entrust your soul to" Him for He is faithful, and "do not grow weary of doing good" (Galatians 6:9). 

Keep hope in the Risen Lamb, Who from His doomed journey of certain death, returned to His throne in the light of eternal power, inexhaustible purity, and conquering grace.

What about you?

Have you lost someone close to you? What do remember most from that time of grief? What helpsyou to cope?

"Judge not, lest ye be judged."

I admit, at times I struggle to grasp a loving God allowing seemingly unloving things. But I know that cannot make me think: how cruel, how unfair, how could He? For this same concept was answered in Romans 9 thousands of years ago. "Who are you, O man, to answer back to God? Will what is molded say to its Molder, 'Why have You made me like this?'" And I know that isn't much comfort to most because it doesn't offer any explanation except that God is in control and He does what is best, even if we don't understand how. But God doesn't need us to make excuses for Him. 

Telling the world the equivalents of "He didn't mean it!" and "He didn't do it!" does not bring them closer to God. It attempts to remove God's sovereignty in order to prove His love. Why can both not exist, the Judge and the Sacrifice? True, they seem contradictory, but would you remove the mystery of the complex nature of God in order to convince people to become Christians?

And if you do, have you really convinced them to be Christians at all? Would it not rather be a continuation of man-centered thoughts, bowing them at the feet of an idol we've constructed as we're blown about by every wave and wind of teaching (Ephesians 4:14).

"But who would ever turn to a God that allows tragedy when He has the power to stop it?" But the Holy Spirit is promised. It is He Who renews our minds, so that we see clearly that pain is not a wrongdoing of God against poor, pitied man. Rather, as our Creator, He has the responsibility to reshape us, His malfunctioning creation, into working condition, and that is not without pain.

It is a mercy that He has allowed us to continue after our first glitch, our first sin, so we might turn to Him for repair. But instead of awe at the grace of it, we sit in our indignation, pouting and exclaiming that we were "born this way" and everyone should "love our flaws" (Read: expecting people to think you're wonderful when you act selfish and prideful. No. Hold yourself to the same standards you hold others to.).

The scary thing is, many apply this same principle to God. "If [He] doesn't accept me at my worst, then [He] doesn't deserve me at my best." And we ever-so-culturally-relevant Christians repackage that into church-acceptable vernacular, but we're spewing the same garbage. We say things like: Jesus ate with sinners and God is love and "judge not lest ye be judged." All true. But we leave out the context, the consequences of that love.

Most who use this as their message just want their audience to think, "Wow, how open-minded this lone diamond of a Christian is." We fight for "God's" reputation in an effort to bolster ours, and in so doing, we damage His and cover up truth.

By claiming God didn't mean all that "wrath stuff" in the Old Testament, or saying He doesn't have the final say over everything that happens, we side with unbelievers against the actions and goodness of God. We believe that those things are unfair, unjust.

We discredit Him, trying to release Him from the blame we place on His actions. "Sure God commanded Israel to kill people, but... it's different now. Look at Jesus instead!" But we can't properly look at Jesus until we linger in the actions of God in the Old Testament.

Why did He seem to change? What happened between Malachi and Matthew? Did God take a cosmic nap and get less grumpy?

We are told in the Bible that God doesn't change. His nature is constant; His actions are consistent with that nature. And we certainly didn't change. Mankind didn't suddenly become more lovable.

What changed is the focus of God's wrath.

When Jesus came to earth, He lived a perfect life. He was born into human nature yet held fast to holiness and purity, to His Father. And in the end, He became the object of God's wrath.

Did God not mean to give His perfect Son over to torture, rejection, abandonment, crucifixion, and then, eventually (finally) death? Did God have control over this terrible, wonderful thing?

We wouldn't dare say differently. There are too many verses where Jesus Himself declares it to be true.

Maybe we have an easier time believing it because it benefits us. 

God is love, Jesus did eat with sinners, and He even did say "judge not lest ye be judged." But we cannot ignore what followed.

First, Jesus ate with "sinners" not because they were sinners, but because they recognized their sin, the consequences of that sin, and the spectacular relief of Jesus saying, "Your sins are forgiven." He met with sinners, but He didn't let them leave as sinners. With a, "Go and sin no more," He commanded them to change their entire manner of life, means of income, living situations. He called them to do radically difficult, painful, costly things in His Name, motivating and empowering them with His mercy and kindness and later gifting them with the Holy Spirit as Guide.

Let's not forget Jesus ate with Pharisees, too, and He spent most of that time pronouncing really harsh judgments against them for their pride and greed and false worship.

In summation: Jesus didn't eat with sinners because He approved of their sin but because they recognized Christ as the remedy for it. 

Second, there's more to a verse than meets the public's eye. After Jesus tells them, "Judge not," He tells a parable about first removing the log that is in your eye. People like this quote, too, and leave off the last bit of that sentence, in which you then do remove the "speck that is in your brother's eye." Why is this left out? Because it's "offensive". But... how? Honestly? How is someone removing sawdust from your eye harmful, rude? Is it not helpful? And what sweet relief when it is gone!

Many Christians have been led to believe that you show love by withholding judgement. Here Jesus tells us to hold up our judgements to ourselves first, then to others. And it's not that I'm not allowed to hold someone accountable for lying because I have also lied in my lifetime. I can hold them accountable while allowing them to hold me accountable. 

Withholding judgement doesn't actually do any good, it just means you both walk around with crap in your eyes, and no one is willing to do anything about it because it will hurt for a few seconds. Don't confuse that temporary pain with unkindness or a lack of love.

1 Corinthians 5 does put a condition on this judgement. Paul says, "What have I to do with judging outsiders? Is it not those inside the church whom you are to judge? God judges those outside. 'Purge the evil person from among you.'" (P.S. When he says "purge," he is not calling for their murder, but their removal from the local church with hope for their return. As in, do not call them Christians while they intentionally reject the teachings of Christ, just as most practitioners of Islam reject "Radical" Islam as true Islam.)

So, it is our job, as Christians, to hold other Christians accountable. It is to be with the purpose of repentance and reconciliation, in the event of which we are then to "affirm our love for [them] so that [they] will not be overwhelmed with excessive sorrow" (2 Corinthians 2:7).

It is also our job to speak truth to those who are outside the church. To "judge" motivated by compassion, fear for the state of their souls because what God says is true. His Kingdom is real. It is eternal. His judgement is right, good, and just.

Every speech we read in Acts by one of the disciples leads in with the reality of the human condition. It isn't until the audience-- "cut to the heart"-- asks "What can we do?" (Acts 2) that they tell them of the forgiveness and freedom found by repenting and following Christ.

Maybe these Judge-Not Christians think they are saying, "You're wrong, but I'm not going to turn my back on you. I am going to tell you of the hope that is found in Christ."

I pray that's what they are saying.

But I have seen too many church leaders speak only of love, to the point of becoming not only tolerant of sin in the church, but, in the air of culture, applauding it. Like "Wow, we're so real," and then they're sitting around admiring everyone's willingness to share their sin. Then, if not careful, making light of their sin. Then doing nothing to change it, finding excuse and comfort in solidarity. This is why Galatians 6:1 is written.

Many look around at their churches and think, "Wow, so many fake Christians," not realizing they are the ones who make it that way-- disciples not of Jesus but of an easier imitation of the call of Christ, one that requires little more than Sunday attendance and a few hand-raising renditions of shallow songs. We make them feel better about themselves by telling them how loved they are, how blessed they are, how God answers prayer.

But what of the topics that make us squirm a little and avert our eyes so no one catches us looking guilty? Or talking about the commands of God, the sacrifices of worldly pleasure and attitude and worries, that He asks of us?

It is dangerous when we don't care enough about our congregation to notice, let alone to say, "Hey, I know you're struggling. I want to see you do the right thing. I want to help you, because I know it's difficult." If we don't preach the life of a true follower of Christ, why subject themselves to a charade of piety every Sunday?

This is why so many people stop going to church, why so many think Christianity is a hypocritical farce.  Not because we don't "love" enough, but because we aren't loving correctly. When we water the Gospel down, we offer the same "love" found in the world, but with extra stipulations and an air of self-righteousness. It's not sustainable. And it isn't truth. God's love is unconditional, and it is also life-changing. It demands everything from us, and it is worth it all.

Love people with the love of God, not with the love of the world. Only one will last. 

It comes down to this:

If someone is outside the church and makes no claim to follow Christ, it is your responsibility to speak truth in love with gentleness and respect and to inform him of the Gospel of the finished work of Christ. But we can't get angry at someone or mock them or cut someone off for not upholding the commands of a God they either don't believe in or couldn't care less about. Do we really think that we would choose to do any differently? If so, we are the ones who need a reminder of the Gospel, that we were once "dead in our trespasses and sins" (Ephesians 2:1) until Jesus literally had to die and come back to life in order for us to have the ability to follow Christ. We do not have the power to obey on our own, only through the Holy Spirit. Unbelievers do not have the power nor the motivation to obey a God they do not love.

However, if someone is sitting in the pew next to you, week after week, claiming to be a Christian, it is your responsibility to speak truth in love with gentleness and respect, to hold them accountable to the Word of God, to point them to the Gospel of the finished work of Christ, to "forgive and comfort them, so that they will not be overwhelmed by excessive sorrow." Where opinion differs or understanding wavers, defer to the Bible, the truth that has been passed down for thousands of years without shifting its message for shifty human perception. It is your duty-- as a fellow Christian, to the Church, and to God Himself-- to hold that believer accountable to the knowledge and commands of God.